


Before It Has Begun (We've Already Won)

by MakeTheMoon



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheMoon/pseuds/MakeTheMoon
Summary: "So on very rare occasions after leaving the bridge and finishing his admin work, he’d tuck himself away under his thin Starfleet covers and realise he hadn’t gotten off in... what was it, three weeks? A month?"Jim takes matters into his own hands and his First Officer uses Jim's room as his own... what could possibly happen?





	Before It Has Begun (We've Already Won)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel I have to apologize to the Star Trek fandom as a whole. This is filth. This is pure, unadulterated porn with absolutely no story at all, and this fandom is SO GOOD AT STORY. I suck at story. But I'm alright at porn! First Star Trek fic, still trying to find the boys' voices - but who needs voices when you've got a lot of smut, right?

Jim learned early on to get off with nothing - no vids, no photos, barely even an imagination. As a cadet, he had rarely had time to jerk off anyway, and as a starship captain, even less so.

So on very rare occasions after leaving the bridge and finishing his admin work, he’d tuck himself away under his thin Starfleet covers and realise he hadn’t gotten off in... what was it, three weeks? A month?

The realisation itself was usually enough to get him hard, his brain trained to take the opportunity as soon as it presented itself.

He palmed his cock through his boxers, already leaking at the tip, and let a breathy sound through his lips. He had a few go-to images he’d mentally card through - the Andorian male he’d fucked so hard the headboard had broken in his fists, the human woman who had ridden him so thoroughly he thought he’d never be able to come again, and then, every now and then, he’d let the image of Spock in, a fantasy that had never come to be. Tonight was one of those nights. Spock’s face swam in his vision, the normally straight-faced Vulcan slack jawed and sweating, settled between Jim’s legs and pumping into him roughly.

He had one hand in his boxers, the other fumbling blindly in his drawer for something, his lube or his vibrator or, or something, anything. His shifting, evidently, had covered the sound of his bathroom door swishing open because he finally stopped stroking himself to look into the drawer and instead met the dark, confused eyes of his First standing in the doorway, the dim light just enough to make out his severe features.

“Jesus, Spock, knock next time would you?” He dragged his hand out of his boxers and crooked a knee, hiding the bulge that would have been obvious under the sheets. He hoped, for a moment, that Spock had no idea what he was doing - he was covered, he didn’t have the lube in his hand yet, and it was dark enough that he might get away with this.

“I apologize for the intrusion at such an hour, Jim. I was certain you would still be recording your Captain’s Log for the day...” he trailed off, which was odd enough that Jim’s cock twitched at the thought that he had been caught. He was a show-off, sure, but this was something he usually liked to keep to himself, too vulnerable to feel liberating. But now, with Spock here, in his room, he felt himself responding to the light scent of incense that followed Spock around the Enterprise.

“Uh... um, yeah, I just finished.” Spock tilted his head minutely, eyes raking down Jim’s body and Jim may have imagined the slightly rough intake of breath.

“Jim... may I ask a question?”

Jim managed not to roll his eyes, but replied, “shoot,” with a small wave of the hand that was still dumbly hanging into the drawer.

“What is it, exactly, that you are doing?”

He breathed a laugh through his nose, almost a snort, before answering, “really, Spock? I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Spock eyed him again and shifted closer to the bed, a small movement that appeared to be prematurely aborted when he stopped with one foot a little in front of the other.

“It appears that you are... self-pleasuring.”

“Sure am, buddy. So if you’d kindly...” he waved his hand again towards the bathroom door. He was surprised, then, when Spock took another step closer.

“Vulcans do not participate in such actions,” he replied, and the confusion on his face had turned to curiosity, a slight tilt of an eyebrow and the uplifting of one side of his mouth.

Jim was not in the mind-frame to go into a human biology lesson when his cock was still hard in his boxers, but he couldn’t help but respond in kind. “What, really? Never? Well... why not?”

“We are taught that lust is an emotion like any other, and to meditate on the feelings in order to fully understand their place. Therefore, physical release is unnecessary.” Jim was about to snort again and comment on how uptight Vulcans are and that maybe they need some physical release when Spock said, “however, I am half human.” This gave Jim pause. His hesitation must have been clear because Spock took another step forward, now halfway between bathroom and bed, and Jim’s cock got impossibly harder. “As you know, I often find it difficult to file my emotions neatly away as other Vulcans do.”

He stepped forward again, twice, two long strides to stop a couple short feet from the side of the bed. Jim took a shaky breath and tried to hide it behind a grin, and said, “Spock, are you trying to tell me you want me to teach you how to jerk off?”

“On the contrary, Jim. I am telling you that I often find myself unable to control my feelings of lust on this ship and have partaken in your activity numerous times.”

Jim could feel the look on his face, tell his mouth was hanging open, his eyes a little too wide, looking somewhere to the right of Spock’s shoulder. He shifted on the bed, a small motion from his hips, and felt the wetness of the front of his boxers. He swallowed and looked back at Spock’s face. Spock inclined his head and opened his mouth, closing it again and appearing to calculate his sentence before finally saying, “I have also noted the scent from other officer’s quarters on occasion. I have found it to be unappealing to inoffensive. However, Jim - your scent is much more pleasant to me.”

This surprised a short laugh from Jim, a breathy, soft sound from the back of his throat. “That’s, uh. Thanks?”

“Thanks are unnecessary when stating facts.”

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me, baby, you know I love it when you do that.” The eyeroll was implied, but took most of the rest of Jim’s willpower not to act on.

Spock took half a step to the edge of the bed and bent enough to reach into the drawer at its side, fingers grazing Jim’s before he grasped the bottle Jim had been looking for. Jim’s hand darted away at the contact, a strange tingle running from fingertip to elbow startling him.

“It is my understanding that, while humans enjoy their own pleasure, a partner is preferred. I would like to… help you,” Spock said, more quietly than his normal, demanding voice.

Jim was never one to pass up an opportunity, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle in Spock’s hand. Spock paused, then handed over the lube - there was no contact this time.

With another thick swallow, Jim straightened his leg but crooked the knee on the inside of the bed. The bed sheets shifted down to reveal his hips and the band of his boxers that were barely covering his cock. He knew he looked good like this, leaned back on his elbows, the light from the bathroom streaming in to accentuate his musculature. He was never one to be modest, but with Spock’s eyes on him he was finding it difficult to get his hands to cooperate. He got the thumb of his right hand into his waistband and tugged down, shimmying out of the underwear, keeping his eyes on Spock, lube still in his other hand. The hitch in Spock’s breath was obvious this time, his eyes following the boxers as Jim kicked them onto the floor at Spock’s feet.

Jim was still covered as he uncapped the lube and laid back, slicking his fingers. His voice was shockingly smooth when he said, “you have too many clothes on. Anyone ‘helping’ me jerk off needs to be… much more naked.”

Spock had always been expedient. He was down to his black undershirt and shorts in moments, clothing somehow neatly piled next to Jim’s boxers. He sat on the edge of Jim’s bed gingerly and extended two fingers to touch Jim’s slicked hand, running his fingers along Jim’s knuckles and tendons. It was the first full skin contact they had ever had if they didn’t include Spock’s fingers around Jim’s neck on the bridge. The image burned itself into Jim’s mind and he tucked it away for later. That might be too much for Spock’s brain right now.

The tingling he had felt before was intensified, trailing to his chest and face and groin, and he was panting into the quiet of the room before he realised he was feeling arousal that wasn’t his. His own was hot and hard, heavy in the room, unorganized and fast - Spock’s face, Spock’s lips, Spock’s arms and hands and chest through his shirt. This, though, was slower, simmering low in his belly. While he couldn’t pinpoint a specific image or word, he was feeling Spock’s arousal stemming from his languid trace of Jim’s body - slowly, from his unkempt hair to the edge of the sheet at his hips.

Spock retracted his hand and used it to pull his shirt over his head, then in one quick movement he was out of his shorts and tentatively holding his own cock in his slippery fingers. Jim’s eyes followed his movements, mesmerized by the way Spock stroked himself. It was deliberate, faster at first, then slower, then faster again, each time twisting at the head. When Jim lifted his eyes, Spock had his bottom lip between his teeth and Jim’s hips twitched up in search of friction, an image of Spock’s mouth around his cock flitting in and out of existence. Spock flicked his eyes from his cock to Jim’s face and down to the sheet.

Never one for quiet, Jim shifted under the gaze and said, “well, you wanted to help, didn’t you?” as he nodded his head toward his own crotch and lifted his eyebrows.

“Yes, Captain,” Spock said, and the term of authority sent a shiver through Jim. Spock reached forward and took the sheet near Jim’s knee and pulled it away, and when he licked his bottom lip Jim jerked up to wrap his hand around the back of Spock’s head, carding the dark, sleek hair between his fingers. “Jim?” The uncertainty in his voice was new, something Jim had never heard. He leaned forward, gently, and pressed his lips to the corner of Spock’s mouth. His stomach fluttered when Spock tilted his head and kissed him proper, lips opening and tongue licking. He placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder and pushed him back down. In the same motion, he took Jim’s cock in his hand and swiped up once, running his thumb along the tip, picking up moisture and using it to coat down one side.

Jim’s head was swimming. Having another person touch him again was enough, but that person being Spock was something else entirely. That person being Spock, who’s own lust and hunger were seeping into Jim at every touch of skin on skin almost pushed Jim over the edge at the first touch of Spock’s fingers on his cock. He reached down and grasped the base and squeezed, said through gritted teeth, “you’re either going to have to move really fast, or slow it down a bit, Commander.”

His Commander, always prepared, replaced Jim’s hand at the base of his cock with his own, applying pressure but not moving. The fingers of his other hand twitched at Jim’s side, tickling his ribs, the warm hand running up towards his collarbone, catching on a nipple. He tapped Jim’s mouth with his middle finger and Jim groaned as he opened his mouth for Spock’s fingers, coating two thoroughly, licking up the sides and in between. The lust that had become a natural, underlying current of heat changed, spiked in his blood, and Jim felt drunk, felt lightheaded, felt his skin prickle and his blood pulse in his neck. Spock’s eyes were dark on his own as he leaned down and pressed his fingers against Jim’s ass, one finger pushing in slowly to the first knuckle.

He felt himself grasp for the mattress, hand making contact with Spock’s thigh instead, squeezing so hard he might be leaving bruises. He filed that away for later, too, to check if Spock bruised green and kiss the spots until Spock was a murmuring mess underneath him.

Spock had two fingers inside him now, thrusting shallowly, and Jim had never felt quite so vulnerable. Spock’s eyes were fluttering between his cock, his face, his hand, his toes curling at the foot of the bed. He could hear himself keening in his throat, knew he didn’t have much time, gasped out a, “Spock, I’m so close,” and Spock’s hand on his cock released the pressure at the base and tugged up once, twice, and Jim shuddered on the bed, holding his breath, come painting his own chest and Spock’s hand.

Faintly, Jim felt amusement under the still-overwhelming heat of Spock’s arousal. “Are you laughing at me? That’s… not fair at all,” he managed, smirking up at Spock. He knew what he must look like, sated, open, loose, all traces of the strained muscles melted away - happy.

“No, Jim.”

“You know I can feel your… feelings, right?”

“I was not aware.” Spock tilted his head away, breaking eye contact and looking around the room. He looked unsure, and Jim could still feel the faint emotion where his thigh was touching Spock’s back, felt the dark fingers of shame and apology curling around the heat.

“Wait, no, Spock. I liked it. I want to feel more of that. Speaking of things I want to feel more of,” he trailed off, leaning up to sit and kiss Spock’s cheek, fingers wrapping around Spock’s cock still dripping in his lap. “Why don’t I help you with this illogical, human activity that you sometimes partake of?”

The darkness of Spock’s apology melted away to the white heat of lust, spreading from Jim’s fingers around his cock to the tips of his toes. For the first time since he sat on the bed, Spock moved, removing Jim’s hand to twine their fingers together and settle down next to him. Spock kissed where their fingers met then replaced Jim’s hand and shuddered as Jim pumped his fist. His eyes darted around Spock’s face, lingering on his parted lips and lowered lashes, the faint olive glow of a flush around his cheeks and ears.

When Spock came, the wave jerked at Jim, pulled him in. It felt like drowning, found himself gasping for a breath against Spock’s mouth. His stomach twisted and settled, and he thought he might have come again himself; figured it didn’t actually matter.

The room filled with their quiet breaths and sighs, Spock quiet as ever and Jim shuffling, running his hands along Spock’s body, hooking his foot around Spock’s ankle.

Spock’s breathing slowed, his face lax. At all the points of skin contact Jim felt contentment, felt the pull of sleep in the back of his mind, oddly Spock-shaped. Distantly, he thought he’d never be able to get off to anything else if a handjob from Spock was enough to satisfy him as it had.

Of course, he never thought he’d want anyone else anyway.


End file.
